


What Do You Want To Be When You Grow Up?

by SerLadyJenn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Canonical Character Death, Dean Winchester Deserves Nice Things, Dean Winchester Deserves to be Happy, Death, Gen, How Do I Tag, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt No Comfort, I Love Dean Winchester, Im too tired for tags, Pain, Season/Series 14 Spoilers, Sorry Not Sorry, Tags Are Hard, Tags Contain Spoilers, The Author Regrets Nothing, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, What Have I Done, What Was I Thinking?, im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 05:34:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20334895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerLadyJenn/pseuds/SerLadyJenn
Summary: What do you want to be when you grow up?It was the question Dean never had an official answer to.Now he does.





	What Do You Want To Be When You Grow Up?

**Author's Note:**

> This feels like it's all over the place but I'm proud I finished
> 
> Also, posted at 2 in the morning and was barely spell checked - y'all have been warned

_What do you want to be when you grow up?_

It was the question every teacher asked. It started as soon as you began school up until you graduate high school, not that Dean would know, having only gotten his GED. But he can remember being asked the aforementioned question back in kindergarten. It hadn't yet been a full year since his mom had died and Dean had already learned that he could depend on no one but his baby brother. He had fought tooth and nail against his dad to not leave Sammy, he was only a year old and didn't know a time where he didn't have Dean. John Winchester had put his foot down though, trying to give his oldest some semblance of a normal life that they hadn't had since the fire. Dean had kicked and screamed and cried to stay at the dirty motel they had been currently staying at, but in the end, he realized there was no changing his father's mind.

Ms. Fay was a good teacher, kind and warm to her students. She sat down with Dean to work in his letters while the other kids went and played during recess. He was behind compared to the rest of the class, never had the stability that allowed other kids to sit down and learn. Ms. Fay was understanding though, understanding his needs and tried to quietly guide him into conversation.

"So, Dean," Ms. Fay said quietly one afternoon, Dean didn't know why considering they were the only ones in the room. Maybe she was scared to say the wrong thing to him. He didn't talk much to the other kids, he didn't know how to connect with them so he guessed she just thought he was some baby. "You didn't say what to wanted to be when you grow up, earlier in class"

Dean stayed quiet and tried to concentrate on writing the word Cat. The C he could do but the a was too hard and he ended up slanting it. It looked nothing like the printed out version above. It was so stupid and he wished he was back with Sammy, back to taking care of him and making sure he was safe. Away from here where the people here didn't make sense.

"Dean?"

"I dunno." Dean admits. The only thing he had ever looked up to were the Saturday morning superhero shows, and even he knew they weren't real, otherwise his mom would still be here.

"You don't? Well there's lots of possibilities. Why there's a police officer, a scientist, a doctor, or even like me, a teacher, even a - "

"Firefighter," Dean interrupted.

"Oh!" Ms. Fay exclaimed, "How come?"

Dean stayed quiet, wondering if he should say the real reason and came to the realization that he could trust his teacher.

"Cause' then I could've'tv saved my mom…"

"Oh." Ms. Fay repeated, this time more subdued with the knowledge of why. 

After that awkward conversation, Dean steered away from that answer. Next year, in first grade at Dean's 6th new school, he simply said he didn't know. It was an acceptable answer being only a kid, an excuse he used for the duration of his school career. As he reached high school though, he received more disapproving looks for his answer and a stern reminder about how graduation was approaching. Dean snorted and waved it off, going back to whatever it was he had been doing, most likely ignoring his lessons and getting failing grades.

_What do you want to be when you grow up?_

Dean didn't think about what he wanted to be. He gave up wanting things when he realized Sammy's needs were more important. Working enough odd jobs to make sure the kid had food on the table and clothes for his ever growing moose body. Odd jobs turned to hustling at seedy bars and credit card fraud much to Sam's disappointment but it was a necessity. 

But then Sam went away to college. He left Dean to go become some fancy lawyer with a girl hanging off his shoulder. Then Dad left Dean, dropped the Impala's keys in hands and sent him off on hunts. It was the first time Dean had no one to take care of. Didn't have to worry about having food on the table. Didn't have to worry about making sure everyone was properly bandaged after a hunt. Didn't have to worry about breaking up a heated argument, just one bad comment away from throwing punches.

_What do you want to be when you grow up?_

Theoretically, Dean could do whatever he wanted. Ignore the hunts Dad sent him and look the other way when something paranormal plagues a small town. He could take the small stash of cash he had and move across the country. Maybe become a mechanic with low pay in some old town, live a quiet life. Or possibly he might just go back to school, get some fancy college degree like Sammy. Earn a steady living with a white picket fence and marry a girl, or a boy, the jury is still out on that. 

But Dean didn't neither of those things, remembering that he isn't allowed to want anymore.

A few years went by when Dad went missing in October of '05. Dean picked up his little brother so they could go find Dad. And if Dean selfishly wished that Sam would realize his apple pie fantasy was just that, well then he'll make some comments here and there. 

Dean was too busy trying to track down Dad, solving the cases he sent while also trying to keep himself and Sam alive, that he didn't have the time to think about what could've been if he had followed Sam's footsteps. They were on the cusp of finding John Winchester, after months of dead ends and bottomless voicemails when Sam brought it up.

"What are you gonna do what it's all over?"

_What do you want to be when you grow up?_

The words were different but the meaning the same. Before it would've made Dean hesitant, weary of saying anything because only teachers had asked him and he's seen the reaction of saying the wrong thing. This time was all the question did was provoke anger from him. How could Sam even think there was going to be an end to this? There were still monsters out there, murdering lives and destroying even more. How could he possibly believe he could go back to Stanford and pretend not to know all the dangerous things occurring out there?

"It’s never gonna be over. There’s gonna be others. There’s always gonna be somethin’ to hunt," Dean shot back, cold, curt and blunt. The truth.

The conversation ended up a mess but made Dean realize something; Sam didn't want to be in this family. The realization hurt but Dean pulled himself together, after all, this wasn't about him, it was about finding their Dad.

Life the next 4 years was a shit show. Losing Sammy, selling his soul, going to Hell, and then the whole Apocalypse looming over them. All the shit Dean had been through just to lose his little brother again. And he couldn't even try to bring him back because he had promised. So he tried to settle down with Lisa and Ben, be the perfect boyfriend and dad figure. He even got a job in construction even though he hated it. All to fit in and keep the promise he made.

And when he layed down at night, next to a sleeping Lisa, that damned question came back into his mind.

_What do you want to be when you grow up?_

It was supposed to be this. A girl, a kid, 9-5 job with a mortgage. But it wasn't him. It didn't feel like him. While he loved Lisa and Ben, they weren't his family to have. He felt like an intruder in his supposedly own home. Maybe Lisa could tell how he felt, because she offered no resistance when he left them to go hunting. And that's why he offered no resistance when he had to leave them in the hospital, memories wiped and all.

Life wasn't perfect years after the decision. He and Sam had major disagreements, huge blow outs that not even Sam's angsty teenage fights with their Dad could've compared to. Losing everyone he cares about: Bobby, Kevin, Charlie. Even Cas a few times. Too many enemies to fight and not enough bullets in his gun to stop them. Every war won would produce three more battles to be fought. 

But them they got Mom back. Something Dean had dreamed about since he was a kid. As he got to know her though, she wasn't how he had pictured her. She wasn't the same woman who doted on four year old Dean and cut the crusts off his sandwiches. Life had never given Dean what he wanted and it wasn't about to start now. That wasn't going to stop him from trying to have a relationship with her.

"So Dean," Mary started saying one evening in the bunker after dinner, "Sam was telling me earlier about how he had gone to Stanford, and about how he was gonna be a lawyer."

Dean grunted in acknowledgement, still focusing more of cleaning the dishes from his famous burgers than actively participating in the conversation.

"And I was wondering about you." Mary continued.

"Hm? What about me?" Dean asked busy as he scrubbed down a pan in the soapy water. It was obvious about what had happened to him. No college diploma or any experience to show, he wasn't smart like Sammy was and Dean had long since accepted that.

"Well I know this life wasn't exactly forgiving on wanting a more... normal life," Mary hesitated as she was putting the newly cleaned plates away, "And even though you didn't chance, what would've you done?"

"What do you mean?" Dean asked, already knowing what she meant but wanting to not talk about for as long as possible. He didn't feel like hashing out old scars from his childhood. He never became the firefighter he wanted to be as a kid, or even a mechanic and forget about that superhero fantasy. He was the thing superheroes were called to be saved from.

"What I mean is, did you have any thing you wanted to be?" Mary questioned, trying to connect with her eldest son, "What did you want to be growing up?"

Dean paused.

_What do you want to be when you grow up?_

He hasn't thought about that question in years, there hadn't been any time. It wasn't like he had a variety of choices now at 37 where Dean battled with finding gray hairs. Everywhere.

Dean cleared his throat and answered, "Uh, I didn't really have anything."

"Nothing?" Mary pushed. He could feel her eyes staring at him from behind so he pushed his arms deeper into the water, eager to move last this line of questioning.

"Well Mom, it wasn't like we had Dad jumping for joy any time either of us wanted anything that didn't have to do with hunting." He shot back, forcefully scraping at a plate now. If he was clearer in the head he might've been worried about it breaking under the pressure.

"Yes but- "

"It's not important!" Dean finally snapped. It really wasn't important. What did it matter now? Why did she even care, it was just some child delusion before reality finally set in.

"It does matter Dean." Mary said after a moment, her tone soft but firm with conviction.

"Not to me it doesn't," Dean said, all of a sudden tired. Tired of this conversation and of the memories it brings, "Not anymore."

He quickly tried his hands on a nearby towel and walked out of the kitchen. The rest of the dishes would wait for him later. Dean just didn't want to be around Mary right now, where he's only feel like a failure for not having aspirations like Sam.

The next morning when he got up, the dishes were done and put away. The conversation was never brought up again.

Another year brought them Jack, and while Dean hated him at first because his existence was a permanent reminder of losing Cas, he grew to care deeply for the kid. He became part of the Winchester family, for whatever that meant. In his experience it usually meant ending up dead.

For a time they had this small knit family group. Dean, Sam, Cas, Jack, and Mary. They ate dinner together and had movie nights on Tuesdays sometimes. They would split up hunts and help with researching when needed. It felt like a family. It felt like a home. A kind of home Dean never had and so desperately wanted.

But then the other world happened. And he became a vessel for the other Michael. A sad and stupid attempt to save his family. Having lost control of what he was doing, what he was thinking, of who he even was. When Dean had finally trapped Michael away, he still felt the after effects. He still woke up during the middle of the night wondering if this was all just another attempt to take Dean. To make him complacent while in reality he was still a meat suit for Michael. The best constant banging in the back of his head would remind him that it wasn't all a ruse and he really was back in his own bed but he'd still be wary sometimes after an awful nightmare.

Then to make things worse was Jack losing his soul and going on some righteous high. Dean was sick of shit just falling on top of each other all at once and just wanted a break. He wanted Jack back home, at the bunker, soul and all, safe and protected behind the walls. 

Jack murdered Mary a week after that thought.

Everything was falling apart and Dean wasn't fast enough to piece it all back together. Cas was holding onto hope that Jack wasn't gone for good. Sam couldn't make a damn choice, so indecisive and unsure about himself since the group of hunters died. He knew he had to be the one to step up to the plate and take one for the team. To get his hands bloody and do what no one else would bear to think of. Dean wasn't gonna lie to himself, part of the reason why was also because he wanted revenge for his Mom's murder.

Dean felt even more justified for his thinking when Chuck showed up with some divine gun, a solution to the problem. Sam and Cas were against it but it wasn't about just them anymore. God was saying Jack should be out down. The kid was ruining the world for Christ's sake.

Dean found Jack in the cemetery, sitting alone. It seemed like he got to Jack before Cas could. What surprised Dean was Jack kneeling on the ground, staring up at him with nothing but acceptance.

"It's okay Dean," Jack said, a small sad smile directed towards him, "Do what you gotta do. I'm ready"

Dean's throat constricted and swallowing became a struggle as he pointed the gun at Jack. Could he really do this? Kill the boy he spent hours with daily, teaching him how to hunt and guiding him on his driving skills. 

Chuck had said it needed to be done. That there was no choice but for the gun currently in his hand. Dean felt a confusing rush of emotions, this … monster killed his mother when she hasn't done a thing to him. Killed her and pretended everything could just go back to normal. He had to stop him.

Dean's eyes focused back on Jack, decision made. 

He took his shot.

****

Dean stared down at his empty shot glass on the table. His bottle of bourbon was only a quarter gone, though it didn't mean that much considering it was his second bottle in 2 hours. He scratched at his beard, gone is the short stubble he had before, he hasn't cared enough to keep it groomed properly. He hasn't cared in months

He had done it. He took down Jack. The blood was still dripping from his brains when Sam and Cas showed up some time later. He'll never forget the look on their faces as they realized what he had done. Cas' face was full of pain, he had simply broken down on Jack's body. Holding onto the lifeless corpse of his pseudo son and sobbing onto it.

Sam had taken one look and Jack's body and looked away, grief written all over his face. He then turned to Dean with unshed tears in his eyes. The sadness emanating from his brother quickly turned into unbridled disgust. Horror was definitely mixed in there but disgust was what Dean saw the most of. 

It was fully deserved. There were no more excuses anymore. No Mark of Caine to hide behind. No Michael to blame it all on. This was all on Dean. He made the choice. Judge. Jury. Executioner. 

Now, months later, he was sitting alone in the bunker, doing nothing but chugging down alcohol nonstop. All he had for company was his glass, his alcohol, and his gun he had at the end of the table.

Cas had left as soon as Jack's body had been burned. He never said a word to Dean. He didn't even look his way. Just packed what small belongings he had in the bunker and left. The news came about three weeks later later that Cas had attempted to make any deal possible in order to get Jack back. He went so far as to summon the Empty but when given a negative answer, he willingly went with them. Seeing no hope to get back what he lost, he made good on an apparent past deal Cas had made before for Jack. Cas didn't even tell Sam what he planned to do.

Two weeks after learning about Cas, Sam couldn't take it anymore and went off on his own. They had barely spoken at all save but a few small words but the night Sam left he knew exactly what he needed to say to hurt Dean. 

"Do you even feel any guilt?" Sam demanded, bag in hand standing in front of the staircase.

Dean didn't respond. He was sitting in the same spot at the table he'd been at for weeks and continued to be at. Consuming the same cheap alcohol and staring into nothingness. 

"You killed - no, you murdered a child. He was good and kind and he could've been saved! Who gives a fuck what Chuck said. When have we ever listened to what others said we have to do?!"

Pour another glass. Drink. Refill. Try not to spill.

"We've done a lot of messed up shit Dean but this … this was just a line you crossed. I can't even look at you without being ashamed and horrified about what you've done."

Pour. Swallow. Refill. Don't spill.

"Mom would've hated what you've become. All you do is just sit around in your own self pity and drink. Well guess what Dean - You can't drink your problems away. Not this time."

Pour. Swallow. Refill. Shit it spilled. Might as well drink from the bottle now.

Sam breathed a wet sigh, "There's no getting through to you and I'm done with it. With everything. Just remember that you chose this. You chose to become this monst - thing, to become this thing," There was a pause, Sam presumably waiting for any kind of response and seeing that none would come, ended with, "Goodbye Dean."

It was a good thing Dean had recently stocked up with alcohol. He spent the rest of the night in a blur of constant stream of alcohol into his body and throwing it back up moments later. He woke up with tears on his face and a pool of his own puke beside him. The last of his family had left, the only thing keeping him sane.

Now he's here, one month later and nothing changed but beer bottles everywhere and a beard with an awful smell following him. Sitting in the same spot with all that he has left but his tools of self destruction. At his side was a broken phone, the one he had thrown just hours earlier. He had thrown it in a fit of rage and self loathing. On it had been a voicemail from Jody.

_Dean I don't know how to tell you this… I know things have been rough lately and you don't pick up your phone… but… Sam went on a hunt a few days ago. His body has just been found. He put up a good fight but it looked like a pack of werewolves. …. Listen don't do anything, I'll come down and pick you up, okay? I'll be there in 2 days, I'll even bring Claire with. She misses you. Bye Dean._

His baby brother was dead. The one job he ever had in life. His soul purpose for living. The reason why he continued to breathe, is now officially gone. There was no deals to be made or ancient spell to look up. Just another body to be burned. 

This wasn't how it was supposed to go. This wasn't how Sam's life was supposed to end. He was gonna be some hot shot lawyer with a wife and kids before Dean ruined it all and forced him back in the life. It's all Sam ever wanted when he grew up. Just plain old boring normalcy and stability.

_What do you want to be when you grow up?_

The stupid question forced it's way to the front of his brain. Years of hearing it and it's variations have made it permanently cemented in his brain.

Dean laughed bitterly and took another swig from the bottle.

_What do you want to be when you grow up?_

He had the stupid day dreams as a kid. A firefighter. What a fucking joke. He wasn't smart enough for that shit. He was shit

_What do you want to be when you grow up?_

He didn't deserve to have any semblance of a normal life. He didn't deserve to be happy. That train left long ago. It was time to face what he's done and all the lives he's ruined.

_What do you want to be when you grow up?_

The gun on the side of the table glinted from the angle he was at. It was as if it were a sign. It was quick. It was easy. It was painless, not that he deserved it but he was a coward.

_What do you want to be when you grow up?_

He wants to be free. From his sins. From his pain. From his life

_What do you want to be when you grow up?_

He twisted around the gun in his hand, the heavy weight a comforting feeling. Dean raised it to his head, simply holding it there.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, savoring these last moments.

_What do you want to be when you grow up?_

Dean let a slow smile spread across his face. He finally had an answer to his ever life plaguing question.

_What do you want to be when you grow up?_

"Dead."

_Bang_

**Author's Note:**

> #NoRegrets
> 
> Sadly the only bang Dean gets does not include Cas


End file.
